


I flew too close to the sun (but it called to me)

by multifandomcircusfreak



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fitz is Icarus, Greek Mythology AU, Icarus AU, Jemma is the daughter of Apollo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandomcircusfreak/pseuds/multifandomcircusfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz had never really been one for stories. He liked facts, the indoors, and solitude. But when Skye convinces him to go with her to their village's monthly story telling ceremony, he finds himself wrapped up in his own fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little number for http://its-nora-borealis.tumblr.com who asked for a Fitzsimmons Greek mythology au. It was intended to be a oneshot, but it turned out to be a somewhat poorly thrown together and longer fic. Oops.

Fitz had heard the stories that the Elders of his village would tell. How every being had a soul, every aspect of the world had a god to reign over it, and how everything that existed in this land had a spirit in one way or another.

He’d never been one to listen to their tales. Though he liked to believe what they said, to think that every one of his inventions was given life, he had never been part of the groups of curious children or lost adults that clung to their every word.

No, Fitz was perfectly content to stay indoors, actually. He enjoyed the sound of his mother sketching her designs against the sand floor of her workspace before she left to help the healers during the day. He liked to tinker with the scraps of metal he found or bought and turn them into something new entirely. He liked to listen to the crackle of his fire stove much more than he liked the sound of gossip, or polite but shallow conversation.

That was until one day when his mother walked into their house, her steady hands holding canvases for sketches. Behind her was Skye, the girl he’d grown up with, and the closest person that Fitz had to a friend. Not unlike a wind nymph, Skye immediately swept him up into a whirlwind of pleading and earthshaking persistence,and convinced him to go with her to the legend telling ceremony that the Elders held every full moon.

Fitz sent a quick look to his mother, hoping to get out of it, but she simply nodded knowingly. He glanced over longingly at his inventions, wishing he could spend his night arranging and rearranging their pieces. Apparently the Fates had another plan.

***

Fitz sat grumpily on the floor of the council room. It wasn’t like he didn’t love a good story - his mother told him tales of her childhood all the time - it was mainly the crying baby two rows behind him, or the girl giggling loudly to the side of him, or even Skye repeatedly hitting his shoulder every time she was sure it would start (ten times so far) that really made him want to go home. Plus the fact that the stories never seemed to be realistic if you weren't one of belief.

For the eleventh time, Skye whacked his shoulder and exclaimed, “They’re coming!” in a hushed voice. Luckily for him, the six elderly villagers actually appeared at her words. About a dozen youths ran to grab stools from the sides of the room and place them in a semi circle.

The oldest woman touched the head of the boy who grabbed her stool in what seemed to be a blessing. He walked happily back to his family as she sat down to begin the stories as was tradition.

When the lady spoke, Fitz quickly recognized her as the Elder Sofia, the oldest member of their village, and the best known tale teller. Her voice was raspy, yet soothing and mysterious. She could tell you a story with such detail and skill that it was like you were transported back in time.

“Now, my children, we shall begin,” she announced. Fitz tried to ignore the excited look that Skye was giving him, moving his shoulder away from her so that she couldn’t hit it again.

Elder Sofia collectively whisked away the entire room with her words about kings and queens, tragedies and humors, and  the history of the world they currently lived in. Fitz could see why people came every time they could, the experience was quite thrilling.

Another, smaller lady from the farthest left side of the half circle spoke next. “Perhaps it is time for a tale of magic?”

A man on the opposite side said “The tale of Jemma, maybe?”, leading the other members of the circle and the audience to nod enthusiastically in agreement.

He’d never heard this one, so Fitz couldn’t help but lean forward in interest when Elder Sofia smiled and said “Very well then,” before beginning the next tale.

“All of you know Apollo,” she started. “God of the sun, healing and music. He, like many of our gods, fell in love with mortals and had children. One day, he met a medic in this very town. With her, he sired a daughter and named her Jemma.”

“Jemma was the most beautiful maiden in this village during her life,” another Elder continued. “She embodied all the good traits that her father possessed. Her voice sounded like music, her smile was like sunshine and her hands could heal someone of any sickness.”

"She was sought after by many suitors," the small woman added. "But Jemma was very hard to impress. It is said that she told her village that she knew that there was only one man she could ever love, and he did not live in her village."

A young girl, about two people away from Fitz in the audience, raised her hand and asked, “Who was he? The man she loved?”

"Every time she was asked, she would answer that he did not live in this world. Not yet,” Sofia responded.

“So how did she know that she loved him, if he didn’t even exist yet?”

“You forget, my dear, that Apollo is also the god of prophecy. She saw him in her dreams and vowed that one day, she would bring him to her. Yet, she died most tragically before that could ever happen in her time.”

“There was a mysterious disease going around, and Jemma tried to help, only to catch it herself, and perish.”

“How awful,” Fitz found himself whispering.

“Some say the disease was a curse,” the Elder man added. “Others say it was Apollo trying to bring his daughter back to him through dreadful means. Either way, as she died, she had one last conversation with her father. She asked him to let her bring the man he loved to her first, before she rejoined her godly family.”

“Did he say yes?” an older boy in the corner of the room asked.

Elder Sofia smiled at him, before including the rest of the room in her look. “We do not know. None of the people who were with her ever heard an answer, it was between Jemma and Apollo.”

“Though,” the small woman continued. “It was passed through family folklore that Jemma’s spirit was passed into all the things she used to be. Her voice turned to music, her beauty turned to the sun, her wisdom aided generations of sciences. Some say that she’ll bring the man she loved to her using her spirit, which only he can be aware of.”

“And I think that concludes our stories for the night, hmm?” the man announced,

The Elders got up from their stools, which the helpers returned to their spots. Fitz, despite himself, wanted to run up and ask for more details. He’d never been one for the stories, even if he found them interesting… but this one. Sure, Minotaurs and Sirens were exciting to hear about, but the tale of Jemma had felt both so real and so fictional at the same time. Whose voice could turn into music? It was already something that existed! Not to mention that the sun was something that caused blindness when you look at it. Was blindness beautiful?

“Wow, those stories were so great, huh, Fitz?” Skye chirped from beside him.

“Hmm.. Wh - What? Oh, yeah. They were great.”

She playfully punched his shoulder. “And I thought you didn’t like the stories,” she teased.

Fitz turned to her. “I never said I didn’t like them, just that I found them hard to swallow. I mean, if there were so many stories about magic and creatures, why don’t they exist now? Why is there nothing to make stories out of right now? In our lifetime?”

Skye paused a bit. “Maybe we have to make our own stories,” she mused, before slipping into her normal energetic self. “I loved that story about the Siren! Did you like that last one about Jemma? It gave me chills.”

“Yeah, I did,” he answered, losing himself to his thoughts.

Later that night, when he was drifting off to sleep, he dreamed of something different than what usually took up his mind. Half of his projects were products of his sleeping brain. He would think up inventions while he slept, blueprints drifting into existence in his thoughts. But not tonight.

He dreamed of a girl. She laughed at him - which he usually hated - but he didn’t mind. Her laugh was teasing and affectionate, like she loved his mistakes, which he never did. The girl had no voice, no name, and for some reason he couldn’t completely make out her face. But somehow, she enveloped him in a wonderful haze of happiness. Even without any proof, Fitz just knew that she was beautiful, and that her voice was something that the women at the markets, with their scratchy throat and gravelly tones, would kill for her.

In his dream, he couldn’t figure out who she was, or even her name. But when he woke up his first thought blinked into existence and disappeared just as quickly.

  
_Jemma._


	2. Chapter 2

Fitz, being the stubborn, denying man that he was, tried to forget about it. Obviously, it was just his brain responding to the events of last night. He’d heard about Jemma, so he dreamed about her. The only reason he’d known so much about her, like the fact that he’d known she was gorgeous and that her voice was beautiful, was because it was his subconscious echoing the details in the Elders’ story. It was no different than if he’d read a book featuring a red boat, and dreamed about a red boat later that night.

Well, that was what he told himself.

His reasoning didn’t really explain why his conscious kept telling him to go outside. The voice in his head had never sounded like anybody, and it still didn’t, but for some reason it currently had a _tone._ It was like even though his conscious didn’t have a voice of its own, right now it still managed to sound nagging. 

Eventually, Fitz grew tired of attempting to come up with explanations for things only he was experiencing, and picked up his sketchpad and took it out into his mother’s garden.

He used to come out here when he was a child, for his mother would teasingly call him a hermit until he agreed to help her tend the plants. He’d never admit it, but he was secretly glad that she had forced him away from his solitude for those few hours. It was in the garden where he met Skye, after all, when she’d wandered away from her orphanage and had simply shown up and weaseled her way into his life.

Now, he was sitting on the sunlit bench that he’d made when he was ten years old, flipping through all the designs that he was currently coming up with. He had to say, the fresh air of the outdoors was a nice change from that of the stale, dust filled air he breathed in his workshop. The gods must have been in a good mood. Fitz frowned at the page he was currently stuck on, trying to come up with the dimensions to make his idea a reality. He was having a bit of trouble evening it all out so that the proportions were correct, but so that the weight of the invention would not counteract its purpose.

To his own surprise, Fitz thought to himself, _I wish I had someone to run this by._

What on earth? That was not something that usually crossed his mind. Yes, when he tried to explain the latest of his inventions to Skye, she visibly did not understand. She’d nod her head absently, pretending she was following his words so that he didn’t feel bad, and then simply ask him how to make it work. It was also true that even though his mother was an inventor herself, she rarely comprehended the meaning behind his quick talking. Her designs were less complicated, and she would always call him “her little genius.” Though Fitz knew her nickname was supposed to be affectionate and praising, he always felt the slightest bit excluded when it came to normalcy, and it was just a reminder of that. 

But he’d never really found himself wishing for someone else. Especially considering he was only close to those two people. He didn’t know what having anyone else to talk to would feel like, to be quite honest. Not to mention someone who actually understood him. 

Once again, despite himself, his mind wandered. He thought of Elder Sofia’s words, how she’d spoken of Jemma’s capability when it came to healing. If she was so superior with medicine, maybe she was a genius in her own right. She’d apparently had multiple suitors and was so self-esteemed that she turned them all away, after all. Then again, she _had_ been so foolish or unprepared that she’d died of the disease she herself had been trying to cure. Daughter of the god of prophecy, hmm? 

_She was probably just trying to help,_ another part of Fitz’s brain protested. She risked her life trying to save people even when she didn’t understand the problem.

He shook these thoughts away when he heard a squawking bird up ahead. Fitz looked up just as the winged creature flew in front of the sun. Once it had proceeded in its path, he didn’t have the time to avert his gaze before he was looking directly at the bright rays of light.

“Mother of Zeus!” Fitz exclaimed to himself when he saw it. Staring back at him from the sky, was a woman’s face. He blinked, making sure that it wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him. No, she was still there.

It reminded him of an eclipse, when the moon was surrounded by the sun, but in the place of the moon, the girl’s face was haloed by the light. Her eyes were bright amber, and her skin was tinted yellow, not unlike something you would see in a small child’s drawing. Her hair floated around her head, but still stayed within the circumference of the sun.

_What on Olympus?_ Fitz asked himself. He rubbed his eyes multiple times, and even looked away for a few seconds, but whenever he looked back, the woman in the sun was still there. Oh gods. He was going mad, wasn’t he? Fitz suddenly got an image in his head of himself turning into the man who always walked down the market, mumbling to himself and yelling at people that, to quote “THE WORLD IS ENDING! SAVE YOUR CHILDREN! SAVE YOUR GOATS!”. Fitz thought that his name was C- something, though, they’d never had a conversation longer than it took for the man to shake his shoulders violently and scream in his ear to tell his family the news.

Fitz did _not_ want to become that man, thank you very much. He valued his sanity. It was pretty much the only thing he was good for.

But he couldn’t help but look up again every time he turned away, despite his worries for his sanity. Fitz’s eyes hurt, but seeing the woman’s face was addictive. For one, he didn’t understand how it was possible, and he loved figuring things out. Secondly, she was breathtakingly beautiful. He felt like he could stare at her for hours, even if he went blind afterwards.

He remembered the story he’d heard last night. _“It was passed through family folklore that Jemma’s spirit was passed into all the things she used to be. Her voice turned to music, her beauty turned to the sun, her wisdom aided generations of sciences.”_

Nope. No, that’s impossible. He was not staring at Jemma’s glowing sun-inhabiting face.

_But it would explain the beauty…._ he thought. _And the dream._

Fitz was torn between wanting to simply diagnosis himself as insane, and thinking about the possibility of Jemma being real. He racked his brain until he could recall his dream. The way he’d known she was beautiful…. Well, this certainly fit the picture.

He looked back up at her blinding image to see that the woman - Jemma? - was smiling knowingly now, as if to tell him he was on the right track. 

“Are you ever going to leave me alone?” he asked the sun. “Why me?”

Her expression changed until it was unreadable. Fitz felt the urge to apologize for potentially hurting her - before he realized that was absurd, telling an optical illusion that he was sorry.

Would this madness come to an end?

Suddenly, he heard his mother’s voice calling his name, and he snapped out of his trance. Fitz turned around quickly, and the sun’s effect on him ended. The world felt very cold now, and black spots danced in front of his vision.

“Dear? Where are you?” she asked.

“Outside, mum!” Fitz responded, scrambling to retrieve all of his papers and look like he’d just been studying them.

“Outside?” his mother laughed, appearing from the doorway. “And so you are! I haven’t seen you out here in years!” She placed her hands on her hips, giving him an almost disbelieving look. “So what caused this change of behaviour?”

“No reason, really. I was reviewing my designs… and it got stuffy in my workspace.”

“Ha! I’ve been telling you that for ages, but you never listen. There’s no other reason?”

What did she expect him to say? _Oh, yes mum, the real reason is that I heard my conscious telling me to go outside, so I did, and then I saw the face of a girl in the sun!_

“It was a nice day today. I couldn’t resist.”

His mum still looked wary, but she smiled and added her own comment. “It is lovely, isn’t it? Very sunny. Perhaps Apollo is feeling kind.” She ruffled his hair the way she used to when he was younger, and turned to go back inside. “Dinner will be ready soon. So finish up. I won’t have you staring at these pages when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

***

Fitz felt fine throughout dinner. He’d made an excuse to close the curtains, saying that the sun was too bright and it was in his eyes. He really just didn’t want to see her face again, and be reminded of how he was obviously going insane. If he looked away… he could tell himself he’d imagined it, he couldn’t do that when she was staring right at him. A little part of him knew this wasn’t the entire reason. He was also scared by how much he loved seeing the woman he supposed was Jemma’s beautiful, but blinding image. When he looked away now, he was terrified by how strong the urge to gaze at her was, but simultaneously relieved because it somehow got just as easier to resolve from looking back as it did get harder.

It was worse when the sun went down. Fitz found himself wondering if this was what it was like for the men and women he saw every week at the market who were addicted to wine. He’d be off to buy food and materials for his work when he saw them, standing by the carts, buying bottles. Their eyes were always droopy and sunk in, and they wobbled when they walked, and Fitz felt sorry for them. He would watch their expressions when they purchased their newest fuel for their addiction, and see how they would look needy for the alcohol and relieved when they bought it, but at the same time they looked sad and trapped, like they realized they were only making themselves worse but they couldn’t stop it.

The sun went down, and he was free from the torture of avoiding looking at it…. but he also didn’t have the ability to see her. He was safe from the madness, but he was sad about losing it.

Later, when he was lying in his bed, drifting off to sleep, he wasn’t surprised by what he dreamed.

He was sitting on a hill, under a large tree, beside the girl from before, whose name he now knew was Jemma. His vision was tinted and hazy and he had that dazed feeling of unexplainable happiness again. He glanced over to see Jemma flipping through a bunch of papers which he realized were his own. Usually, he would have snatched them away defensively, but right now, he didn’t really care. He was actually content to share.

She looked up at him, and Fitz’s dream-self nearly gasped. Whereas the night before when he had this dream, he couldn’t make out her face, her features were visible tonight. It was the same beautiful girl that he’d seen in the sun that afternoon, and with the absence of the bright light, he could focus on her much better.

Her eyes were the same bright amber, and she had a wide-eyed expression when she looked up at him. Her soft lips were curved up in a sweet smile, and her cheeks were pink. Her entire face was full of life. She was gorgeous. Fitz would have thought that taking away the sun from her image would have made her seem less majestic… She certainly seemed more human, that was for sure, but her godly heritage truly showed. No mortal woman he’d ever seen was that stunning.

Dream-Fitz tried to find his voice. “Jemma?” he asked softly, to see if she would respond to that name. 

She grinned, and Fitz took that as a sign that that was, in fact, her name. Jemma tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear and stared at him intently, apparently waiting for him to continue.

“Um.... What are you doing in my dreams, may I ask?”

At his words, her eyes widened in an amused expression. Jemma giggled silently, before opening her mouth to speak. She said a few words, but didn’t seem to realize that Fitz couldn’t hear her. When she noticed how confused he was, she said something else and lifted a hand to her mouth. 

Interpreting her gesture, he informed her, “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Jemma looked down, her features tightening in frustration. Then she glared up at the sky for a moment before returning her attention to Fitz. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled bittersweetly. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

She waved her hand dismissively, though he could tell something was bothering her. Jemma beamed at him again, and for the life of him, Fitz couldn’t understand why she was so happy to see him. He felt his cheeks grow red against his will, because no one had ever looked at him like that before.

“Er, hi, Jemma,” he blushed. 

She wiggled her fingers at him in response. Then, she laid down on the soft green grass of the landscape and patted the spot beside her. He hesitantly laid down as well, and she lifted up his designs for them both to see. Jemma flipped through them, giving varying smiles in reaction to each one, sporadically scrunching up her nose. Fitz knew it was just a dream, that it wasn’t real, yet he still allowed himself to slip into his own little world with the daughter of Apollo. He’d never felt so wonderfully peaceful or comfortable. 

If it was witchcraft, he didn’t care. Fitz was quite content to stay under her little spell, he realized. Maybe going mad didn’t have to be unpleasant.

In his dreamscape, there was no concept of time. He just stayed there with Jemma, on the impossibly soft earth, laughing and smiling and going through his life’s work with her for what seemed like both an eternity and a few moments. Eventually, it all faded out of sight, and he was waking up in his room once more. 

And all Fitz wanted was to go back and see the girl with the beautiful face, and the kind smile, and what he assumed would be a lovely voice. 

But he needed answers first.


	3. Chapter 3

Fitz forced himself out of his bed, and convinced himself that falling back onto the mattress and going back to sleep with the hopes of seeing Jemma again wouldn't do him any good. He got dressed and kissed his mother on the cheek before practically flying out the door, ignoring his mum’s questions about why he was in such a rush.

He ran down the streets of his village, which was quite a sight. Normally, he didn’t leave his residence except for when he was forced to by Skye or his mother, or when it was necessary, and now he was running like he was trying to flee. His reason wasn’t that he was trying to get away, though. No, he had someone to see.

As he neared the hut he was looking for, and thanked the gods for the cloudy sky free of distractions, he felt someone breathing beside him. Fitz looked over to see the crazy man standing right off to his side.

“THE WORLD IS CHANGING!” the man yelled. Shaking Fitz’s shoulders frantically, he added, “SPREAD THE NEWS! WE MUST BE PREPARED!”

“Yes, yes,” Fitz replied, prying the man’s hands off of his shoulders. “World changing, news to spread. Got it.” He shook himself off and hurried along his way. 

He made it to the hut, taking a deep breath, he knocked on the wall to the side of the entrance. He heard a familiar voice tell him to enter. So he did. Inside, Elder Sophia was sitting on a mat on the ground, despite the inevitable uncomfort due to her old age.

“Fitz, isn’t it?” the Elder asked when she saw him. “You were the top student in my husband’s class.”

Fitz smiled slightly at the memory of his childhood, and his mathematics mentor, who happened to be married to the famous storyteller. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Do tell me, child, why have you come?”

He came closer, dropping his hold on the curtain, letting it swing closed, and kneeling beside the woman. “I’m confused, ma’am. I need an explanation, and I think you are the person who can help.”

Elder Sofia smiled. “I will try. What is troubling you?”

Fitz took a deep breath and steeled himself to recount the recent events of his life to the lady. “Well… I came to the storytelling ceremony, and that night, I dreamed of a girl. I couldn’t see her face, or hear her voice, but somehow I knew who she was. It was Jemma. From your story.”

The woman nodded to show her attentiveness, and he continued. “The next morning, I looked to the sun and I saw her face. Every time I looked up, she was staring back at me. Last night I dreamt of her again! But this time, I could see her face, and it was the one from the sun! Elder, what does it mean?”

“Fitz, it seems like your life is following the path of the tale…”

“I know!”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before she asked softly, “Do you believe that there is a possibility that _you_ are the man from the story that she loves?”

Fitz was shocked by the conclusion that she had come to. Why on earth would a woman as beautiful, and smart, and stunning as Jemma fall in love with him? Of all men, or even women, if she followed the footsteps of her ancestors, why would she choose him?

“No, ma’am. I don’t see how that would be possible. I don’t see how _any_ of this is possible.”

Elder Sofia patted his knee in comfort. “Child, you obviously do not follow the average path. You have been bright since birth, to my knowledge. You are handsome and have an even greater heart. Why do you doubt so much?”

“I- I just…” he struggled to find words. “I’ve never thought of myself as worthy of much.”

“I can see. Well, I think that despite what you believe, Jemma has chosen you. I cannot tell you that I understand her reasoning for everything, but it makes sense to me. It follows the story. You see her beauty in the sun, just like it was predicted. You dream of her. It was said that she would bring the man she loved to her, and because of the fact that throughout my long life, no one else has ever had this problem, it seems to me that you are the man she loves.”

“But how can I be sure?”

“You see her in your dreams. Have you asked her?”

Fitz shook his head. “She does not speak. Or, at least, I can’t hear her.”

The Elder was lost in thought for a moment, and when she regained her attentive aura again, she suggested, “You have said that you see her face in the sun, where her beauty was passed after death. The tale said that her voice transformed into music, so perhaps that is where you will hear her.”

He looked up at her. “You believe so?”

“I do.”

“Then I will try. Thank you, Elder.” Fitz began to get up, but Elder Sofia held up a hand to stop him.

“My dear Fitz, please do something for me.”

“What is it?”

“Be careful,” she warned. “I wholeheartedly am under the belief that Jemma meant well, but she is using magic to achieve her means. Magic is a tricky thing to control, and can cause pain and suffering. Please try not to fall too hard into its effect, though it may be tempting.”

Fitz hesitated, not understanding the deeper meaning that she held in her voice. “I - I will. Thank you.”

She touched his head in blessing, like tradition, and Fitz stood. As he left the hut, his head was filled with new knowledge, and spinned in his attempts to process all his thoughts and ideas.

Jemma loved him? The possibility dawned on him, and the wave of unknown feeling that surged through him both scared and thrilled him. For the entire duration of his life, no one had ever felt anything for him that came close to romantic. The only girl he was friends with that wasn’t related to him was Skye, and though he may admit to having the slightest week-long crush on her when they were children, they were like brother and sister now.

The fact that Jemma, with her wonderful existence, would choose _him_ over hundreds of suitors baffled him though. The tale had stated that she’d dreamed about him, if he was in fact the man she loved. Fitz tried to imagine her, who know how many years before, when she was still walking the earth, going to sleep and seeing _him_. Had she been able to see his face? Hear his voice? Was the sun less stunning, and music less lovely, and science less engaging before she’d passed on?

Fitz tried to wrap his head around the whole phenomenon. There was probably some mistake, some misunderstanding going on. He’d have to get this cleared up, and ask Jemma herself if it was really him that she loved. Now he just had to solve his problem about her voice...


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as Fitz got home, he went straight to work. His mum was gone for the day, so he was alone and was able to concentrate completely. He sat at his workbench and stared at the pieces of metal that covered it, trying to formulate an idea in his head. He grabbed a stick of charcoal and sketched a rough design on the table, then, he started arranging the little bits of metal.

He worked his magic on copper wires and placed them in a little box, tightening each one to a different extent and adding a small crank. He didn’t know how long it took, but when he was done, he had crafted a small chest with a turning device sticking out of it. 

Secondly, he took the excess wire and twisted it around into the shape of two loops with a long piece sticking out on either end. He held the contraption up to his face, the loops in front of his eyes, and the sticks resting behind his ears for stability. Then, he took the vase of dark tinted glass that he’d gotten at the market to hold his tools in and smashed it, taking two of the shards and smoothing them into circles and inserting them inside of the holes the wire had created.

Fitz smiled while he studied his new inventions, and hoped that they would work. He steeled himself when he paced his hand on the crank of the box, preparing himself to try it out. His fingers turned it a few times. 

With a soft manner, he picked up the box and sat it down on another, neater part of the table. Fitz sat down on the bench beside it, took a deep breath, and slowly opening the lid, hoping that it would work, but not knowing what he was expecting if it did what he thought it would.

At first, the box did what one would expect it too. A pretty metallic tune bounced off the wires and into existence. Then, Fitz heard another sound join in. A beautiful voice vocalized alongside the music, before becoming the only thing he could hear in the air that was coming from the box.

_Her voice turned to music._

“Jemma?” he asked aloud.

The singing of the tune stopped abruptly. Jemma’s voice rang through his ears and throughout the room as she said hesitantly “Can you hear me?”

Fitz laughed at the fact that, of course. Of course her voice was as lovely as he thought it would be, if not more. “Yes, I can hear you.”

“Oh, really?” she exclaimed excitedly. “How wonderful. And look at you, so smart, figuring it out.”

“Actually,” he admitted. “It was an Elder in my village that came up with the idea that your voice would be found in music.”

Peals of laughter echoed in the room like bells. “But she didn’t build the music machine, now did she?”

“Jemma…” he trailed off.

“Yes, Fitz?”

“Why me?” 

He picked up the box and fiddled with it in his hands. His question was rather vague, but he had faith that she knew what he meant.

Sure enough, she answered. “Why not you? I’ve been given no reason to think lowly of you.”

“I don’t think I give much reason for you to think highly of me either.”

“Oh, Fitz. You are the only one who thinks that.”

“Jemma, the stories said that you loved a man. Is that… Is he m - me?”

There was an agonizingly long pause between his pitiful search for confirmation and her response, though it was most likely all in his head. He tapped his hand on the box, unable to remain still.

“Yes, Fitz.”

Fitz sucked in a deep breath through his teeth at her declaration. Jemma loved him. He was technically just as much a part of that tale as she was. At the ceremony, he was literally listening to the Elders speaking about her and himself. So, all the signs _were_ meant for him, it wasn’t a mistake.

For the first time in his life, someone was in love with him.

More, he thought that he may be in love with her too.

“Is that alright?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. 

“Oh, um, yes, that’s good.”

He felt dazed, with this new revelation and all, but he looked outside and smiled at the sight. The sun was coming out and the clouds were clearing. Fitz picked up his second invention in his other hand, tucked his designs under his arm, and ran outside with his work.

“Fitz?” Jemma’s voice sounded confused now. “What are you doing?”

“It’s sunny!” he exclaimed in response. He seated himself on the garden bench, and placed the music box beside him. Fitz put the wire and glass eye coverings - he’d call them glasses, for that was what he’d used to darken the brightness of the sun. No, he’d call them _sunglasses_. - on his face. 

He looked up at the sky, and this time, the rays didn’t hurt him as much, because he had a dark layer of protection. Within a moment, the glowing orb transformed into the resemblance of Jemma. 

She spoke again from the music box, but the her lips didn’t move in the slightest in the sky, so Fitz realized that he was practically hearing her thoughts, and that the two parts of her spirit weren’t as connected as he thought. 

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she marveled.

He hummed in agreement, and picked up his designs. Fitz looked through them, trying to come up with new ideas. He stared up at Jemma’s encouraging smile, and let the warmth of the day soak all the way down to his bones. Her voice sifted through the sweet air of the summer, sometimes talking to him, other times she would pick up the tune that the music box was originally meant to play.

Fitz slipped into a reverie. As he gazed at Jemma’s image, the sunglasses were probably the only thing stopping him from going blind, but her smile was sweet and soothing and beckoned for his attention. He imagined himself having wings. They were bright and majestic, like they were made from polished gold and inserted in his back. He could hear Jemma’s voice calling him, but it didn’t have the same contained feeling that it did when it was coming out of his machine. In his daydream, Fitz looked up to the sun, but it wasn’t the picture that he’d seen for the last two days. Instead of simply her face being visible, he saw her entire body.

Fitz imagined that Jemma was standing on a cloud, light glowing all around her like a shroud. Her hair blew with the wind, and she was wearing a flowing chiton. She waved at him from above, smiling and calling him to her.

He lifted his golden wings and ascended towards her. He flapped his arms, and glided powerfully through the sky, riding on the wind with each stroke. He neared her even more every second, getting closer and closer. Jemma’s arms stretched out to reach for him, and just as Fitz was about to enter her warm embrace, he heard someone speak to him.

Fitz whipped around, snapping out of his daydream. Skye stood a few feet away from him, her arms crossed and her head swaying to a tune he couldn’t hear.

“Did you make that?” she asked, gesturing to the music box. “It’s pretty.”

“Y - yeah,” he stuttered. “This morning.”

“Fascinating… Oh my gods, what is that on your face?”

His hand moved up instinctively, and he felt the smooth glass surface that rested in front of his eyes. “I call them sunglasses,” he replied. “They stop the sun from hurting my eyes.”

Skye made an appreciative expression. “Smart. You know, I could use a pair. It’s so bright out right now. The sun is awful today.”

“Hey!” he protested before he could stop himself. “I mean… The sun’s pretty.”

He heard Jemma’s voice project from the box, saying “Aw, thank you, Fitz. You flatter me.” He slowly covered the machine with his hand, blocking the sound somewhat, even though he knew Skye only heard the music.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess,” she amended, but he could hear her surprise at his defensiveness. “I haven’t seen you hanging out here since we were twelve. Did your mum have something to do with this?”

“No. It’s just nice out today. It was all grey this morning. I thought that I’d appreciate the nature.” Really, he’d only come outside to appreciate _Jemma_ , but there was no way that he was telling Skye that.

She laughed. “I didn’t think you were one to appreciate nature.”

“Usually not,” he agreed, before a question came to his mind. “Why are you here, Skye?”

She moved to the bench and sat beside him. “I was just checking in…” she trailed off and Fitz knew that there was something else.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath and turned to him. “Do you know Coulson and his wife Melinda?”

Fitz nodded. Everybody knew them. They were the richest people in town, and had the most political power of anyone he knew. According to some, they were working for King Fury.

“Yeah. What about them?”

Skye wrung her hands. “Well, Melinda hired me a month ago as a handmaiden for her home. You know I’m eighteen. They would have kicked me out of the orphanage and I’d be on the streets if I didn’t accept -”

“You could have lived here,” he countered.

She gave him a look. “No, I couldn’t do that. I refuse to live off you and your mother’s work. You’re too nice to me already. Anyways, as I was saying, I’ve been working for Melinda for a month now, and she… she promoted me.”

“Skye, that’s great!”

She smiled. “I know. She says that she’s taking me under her wing as her protegee. Whatever that means. I’ll be going with her and her husband to their meetings, the parties… She even says that she’ll help me find a husband when the time comes.”

“You. Married. Oh gods, you’re like my little sister. That’s a thought, huh?”

Skye punched his arm. “It could happen! If anything, it’s better than an orphanage.”

“You don’t have to leave with them, do you? They travel to different kingdoms all the time.”

“I don’t know, Fitz… They’re treating me like a daughter, which is really nice. I think they’d want to take me with them.”

“Well…” he mused. “If you _have_ to get married. Go for a prince. You deserve to be a princess. But only if he treats you nicely!”

Skye grinned and quickly enveloped him in a hug. “Thanks, Fitz. I love you, okay? You’re like my favourite brother figure.”

He smiled against her shoulder. “I’m your only brother figure. Especially considering you lived in an all girls orphanage.”

For a moment, he thought that he heard her sniffle, but she covered it up by clearing her throat and excusing herself. “I’ve got to go. The Coulsons want me for dinner and I have to get there soon. Apparently they’ve invited the captain of their guard, some man named Triplett.”

As she separated herself, he commented, “If he flirts with you… Well, don’t get engaged in one night, alright?”

“Fitz!”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just protective. Have fun.”

Skye stood. “Tell your mother I say hi. I’ll drop in to see her soon. Bye, Fitz.”

“Bye, Skye.”

She smiled, though he could see something troubling her behind her eyes. He was happy for her despite that. Skye hadn’t been given the best lot in life to begin with. She deserved the chance to have a role model and get to a higher place in life. An estate suited her much better than the street, and she should have the opportunity to marry a prince or a captain of the guard, and not some man with three wives who is twice her age.

As his friend left, he slowly uncovered the music box. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled in apology, keeping his voice low just in case Skye could still hear him.

“You’re a good friend to her, Fitz,” Jemma observed. “Not many men are too kind to women of such an unstable background.”

“Why would I treat her any differently than I would someone of my own class? She didn’t ask to be abandoned.”

“Still… You’re a good man.”

Fitz felt his cheeks turn red. He was just being the same man he’d always been, nothing special. He wasn’t very good at taking a compliment.

“Um, thanks…” he murmured.

About an hour later, his mother returned. The first thing she did was comment on how red his face was.

“Did you spend _all_ day outside?” she demanded.

“No. Just the afternoon. It was nice out.”

“Leo! Today of all days was not one to be outside! The sun was unapologetic!”

He clenched his jaw at that. He knew his mother didn’t see what he saw. She wasn’t under the spell. He just couldn’t help his defensiveness.

“It didn’t bother me,” he mumbled.

His mum smiled sadly and ran her hand through his hair. “You worry me sometimes, Leo. Your lack of self-preservation is astonishing… Go inside. Your skin hasn’t worked up a proper barrier to today’s weather, if you stay out here, your skin will peel.”

“Mum -” he started.

“Inside. Now.”

He glanced up at Jemma’s face in the sky for another moment before his mother placed a hand on his back, encouraging him to enter their house.

When the sun went down, he immediately went to bed, seeing no reason to stay up further. He set his music box beside him, and warmly embraced sleep. Thoughts of the world left his mind. He no longer dwelled on the possibility that Skye was leaving and growing up, or that he himself was drifting farther and farther from his mother and honorary sister.

When his thoughts refocused, he was sitting on the same landscape of the night before. Jemma was beside him, her face awash in the glow of what appeared to be the late afternoon or early evening. The sun seemed to be close to setting, but he knew that he could stay here for hours and it wouldn’t move unless the feeling of the dream allowed it.

“Jemma?” he asked cautiously, looking at her. He hoped that his hypothesis would be correct and she would speak.

“Yes, Fitz?” she responded. Suddenly her eyes widened, and her gaze intensified until her once-passive expression was now full of intent.

“You can speak!” he exclaimed.

“You can hear me!” she said happily in response.

“Yeah,” he sighed contentedly.

“You know, Fitz,” Jemma commented. “I think that you are probably the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“Really?” he asked in astonishment.

She nodded. After a slight pause of what looked like consideration of what to say next, she added “I dreamed of you too.”

Fitz couldn’t stop himself from gawking at this. “You d - dreamed of _me?_ What about me? When?”

She laughed at his reaction and sidled closer to him, so that their arms were touching and he could feel her hair brushing softly against his skin. He sucked in a breath.

“When I was still alive on earth. It started when I was young. I dreamed of a friend, though I had no details, it was all quite hazy. As I grew older, I began having dreams like this.” She gestured around her. “Different places, but still it was you and I.”

Jemma fiddled with the ends of her hair and looked up at him with an infatuated expression that made him feel like he could melt into the ground right there. “It all stopped when I fell prey to that wretched disease. I pleaded with my father to let me see you again, and then I waited and waited. I _knew_ you weren’t my imagination! When you were truly born, I was so happy.”

Despite all of her hints and legitimate confession, Fitz was still struggling with the idea that she was in love with him. Nevertheless, he very much knew that he loved her too. 

“Why did my dreams only start recently?” he asked. “If your dreams of me started so young.”

Her smile faded a bit. “I had to wait for you to hear about me,” Jemma answered, twirling her hair. “I couldn’t bear to drive you mad by seeing a girl you didn’t know.”

He wanted to tell her that she was driving him mad, by being so close but so out of reach at the same time. Fitz wanted to let Jemma know that the more he fell in love with her, the more these little bits of time they had together weren’t enough. He wanted to be able to see her smile all the time, and introduce her to his mother and Skye, he wished he could listen to her laugh from the bench of his garden. Most of all, he ached so hard for the ability to hold her, and fall asleep with her, and to have her beside him when they woke up, ready to kiss.

But he could only be with her in his dreams, and he would always have to wake up. 

“Thank you, I guess,” he mumbled.

She grinned at him, and he thought against his proper will about how soft her lips looked, and how it would feel to put his own against them. Fitz opened his arms, momentarily forgetting how to breathe when Jemma snuggled against him and let him hold her. The sensation was weird. She was tangible and warm, yet it still felt like an echo. It was all he had, though, so he accepted it graciously.

He pressed his mouth against her hair, and with a slight hesitation, but absolute certainty, he confirmed, “I love you, Jemma.”

She turned against his torso so that she was facing him. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Her face split into the happiest look he’d ever seen. Fitz felt something tug inside of him, like a feeling was solidifying. “I love you, too, Fitz,” she responded. “I always have.”

She reached up to place her hand gently on his face. He leaned into the touch and sighed. If this madness that coursed through him was love, then Jemma was going to be the death of him. On the other hand, she made his life shine so much more brightly. Fitz felt like his life was a scale, teetering back and forth until it stayed still, waiting for her to come and tip it either way.

They were so close, and he was vaguely aware of the fact that he could kiss her then and there. She didn’t show signs of moving her lips any closer to his other than when she pecked his cheek, so he didn’t try. He’d always thought that people kissed after they told each other that they loved them, so he wondered why they didn’t do it in that moment, but he didn’t want to ask or do something that might make her scramble away and leave his embrace.

Eventually, he fell asleep in his dream, with Jemma wrapped up in his arms. It was odd, because when he dozed off in his dream environment, he woke up in the real world, and when he slumbered in his bed, he was conscious Jemma’s little world. He opened his eyes to find that he was cold in his bed, and alone. Oh, the things he’d do to fall asleep with her beside him and wake up with her still there. 

At this point, he realized that his dream with Jemma was what felt real, and the world he lived in seemed like an illusion that never ended.


	5. Chapter 5

In the weeks following his last dream, Fitz grew distant from the world. He spent his days in the glaring sun, taking the brunt of its force for the ability to look at his love’s face. He carried his music box around constantly, listening to Jemma’s singing and chatting throughout all his waking hours. He slept immediately after the sun went down, and slumbered for longer than he usually did, spending as much time as he could in his dreams.

Skye was off with the Coulsons for the majority of the time, but when she did check in for small periods to see his mother, Fitz noticed the worried glances they sent this way. Every day, Fitz saw his mum’s nervous face whenever she looked in his direction, seeing him sitting in the sun, listening to that music box all the time. 

He knew what they thought of him. They thought he was mad and delusional. Fitz wished he could explain to them what was going on, what he saw and heard, but he believed that if he did, they would think he was mad for sure. Everyone he cared about would see him as a crazy man, instead of the stereotypical focused yet simultaneously distant inventor. 

It pained him to feel the two women’s distress, but at the same time, the problem felt like it existed a million miles away. He couldn’t bring himself to dwell on the troubles of real life, only on Jemma.

She understood him more than anyone else ever had. She looked at him like he wasn’t an isolated freak, but a genius. She, too, had brains beyond measure and could discuss with him the wonders of their world, and mix the facts and truth of existence with the belief and myths of tales perfectly. Jemma could make the earth seem like a mystery to be unraveled, like a puzzle worth solving.

In the back of his mind, he knew the path he was going down was dangerous. Elder Sophia had warned him about this. He’d made her a promise. But life before Jemma was gray and pointless, full of fruitless conversations and judgment. He’d been forced to retreat to his designs, clinging to the only things he was good at. But, she’d taught him that there was so much more him than that, for the first time in his life, he felt needed.

A life without Jemma wasn’t living at all, really. 

In his dreams, they never touched. They would sit near each other, hold one another, and gaze endlessly into each other’s eyes, but despite all of the love they shared, they never really acted on it.

Eventually, he’d built up the courage to ask why they never did anything to express the deepness of their feelings. Jemma had told him, “Not here. We cannot be together here.” When he asked why not, she’d only looked at him sadly.

He didn't ask again, but her use of the word "here" intrigued him. Was there someplace else? The only things he knew that gained him access to any aspects of her were the music box, the sun, and his dreams. The first two were only pieces, and didn't let her be tangible. In the dream, their time together was limited. On earth, she was dead. Where else was there?

Currently, Fitz was once again sitting on his garden bench, twisting a piece of metal around his fingers absentmindedly, while Jemma’s voice was humming her little tune beside him. His thoughts drifted, and although he’d originally been attempting to come up with some new inventions, he could only think about what Jemma had said.

“Jemma?” he asked, grateful that his mother was off at the market with Skye, so he didn’t have to keep his voice unnaturally low.

“Yes?” she replied sweetly.

“What’s it like? Olympus?”

There was a pause on the other end, and Fitz knew her well enough to know that wherever she was, she had that thoughtful smile on her face she always had whenever he gave her a pleasant thing to think about.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Fitz,” she sighed. “Everyone sees it just a bit differently, but it’s always so beautiful. The Godly Palace sits on a cloud, and nymphs dance around and there’s a little villa dedicated to each of the Olympians. You should see my father’s shrine! It’s right beside a fountain the plays the most lovely music, and all the beings gather there once in a while to recite poetry… It’s so surreal.”

“If it’s so lovely, why aren’t you content to just live there in peace, without me? You told me you waited, but why?”

“Oh, Fitz. I waited for you because you are what makes me happy. Not a fountain, or any poetry gathering, or a shrine. You. I love you.”

He blushed. “I love you too.”

“I wish I was born when you were. We could have been together, and I wouldn’t have had to plead for my father to allow me to use magic. I don’t even exist in one place right now. Usually when one dies, their body and soul are separated, making only two pieces, but not me.” Jemma took a breath before continuing, sounding somewhat frustrated. “My body lies in the ground, my appearance is in the sun, my voice in music, my knowledge has been blessing generations since I passed, and the rest of my soul lies in your dreams. Before you knew about me, I waited on Olympus, but now I cannot regain my place until…”

“Until what?” he pressed, intrigued by the way she trailed off.

“It’s nothing.”

“Jemma…”

She laughed, but it sounded slightly forced. “Fitz, it’s nothing. I was just thinking out loud. Now, why don’t you tell me what projects you’re working on?”

He was perfectly aware that she was changing the subject on him, but he didn’t want to push it, so he agreed and reluctantly began to inform her on what he was working on. Only minutes later, they’d fallen back into their easy exchange of conversation. Fitz didn’t forget what she’d said though. Lulled by her voice, and the warmth of the sun above him, he soon fell asleep pondering what she’d meant.

Unlike all the times he dozed off at night, his current dream was different. He wasn’t on his and Jemma’s little grass covered hill, with the tree covering them. No, he was actually standing in the same spot as he was sure he’d fallen asleep, but instead of him lying down on his bench, he was standing beside it. Something was different, too. The smallest change he could think of was the fact that the music box was not there. The most noticeable thing, however, was that attached to his back were a large, glowing, gold pair of wings, the same one from the daydream he’d had before.

Fitz looked up to the sky, and sure enough, there was Jemma. She was on a cloud, wearing her   
flowing toga. The sun was not in sight, but appeared to be behind her, illuminating her from the back.

“Fitz!” she called. “Come with me! Come to me, and we will live on Olympus forever.”

He smiled at his love, and lifted one foot to kick off and begin his ascent, before hearing another voice coming from behind him. He spun around to see his mother and Skye, clinging to each other and reaching for him.

“Leo, darling,” cried his mum. “Don’t go! Skye will be gone and I will be all alone!”

“Fitz!” Skye yelled in distress. “You can’t leave me! I need my honorary brother figure! I know I said I was going with the Coulsons, but I can’t lose you forever! I can’t be all by myself again!”

He held out his arms for them, trying in desperation to console them, but Jemma’s voice still resided in the sky, drawing him to her. 

“I love you, Fitz,” Jemma continued in a melodic tone. “We can’t be together on earth. My father said that I could only return home if you were with me, and then we could live forever together on Olympus! Don’t you want that?”

He gasped at what she’d just revealed. So that was what she’d been trying to hide. Her deal with Apollo. He wanted so badly to go with her, and spend the rest of eternity with the love of his life… but his mother and Skye still begged him to stay with them. If he left, he would be abandoning them, making him no better than his father.

Suddenly, another person appeared, which was the last thing he wanted. Elder Sophia stood off the the side of him, the middle ground between his family and his love.

“You go down a dangerous and painful path, my child,” she commented knowingly. “There must be a choice. Living between two worlds will tear you apart.”

He didn’t want to make a choice! He wanted to be with Jemma, but he couldn’t bear to leave his family. He wanted to stay with his mother and Skye, but would that really be enough? Could he ever be truly happy?

The wings on his back began to rattle back and forth, repeatedly lifting him up a foot in the air before dropping him to the ground. Their glow intensified as well, making them look less like polished metal and more like something molten. He tried to avert his eyes, but it was like the light seeped through his eyelids, allowing nothing to stop it from bothering him. It only grew stronger and stronger and his cries of pain didn’t completely mask the sound of the people around him.

“You must make a choice!”

“Don’t leave me alone!” 

“I need you!”

“Come with me!”

The light became so unbearably bright that it shut everything out, before going dark. Fitz wondered if it was possible to go blind in a dream. Apparently not, because he woke up lying on his garden bench, able to see the world and hear Jemma hum sweetly, unaware of what he’d just gone through. It would seem that nothing around him had changed, yet the tears in his eyes told him otherwise.


End file.
